


The Rather Eventful Life of Franklin Hollow

by TheUnconventionalKing



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnconventionalKing/pseuds/TheUnconventionalKing
Summary: First Twenty Years





	1. First Twenty Years

Being left on the doorstep of an orphanage is not a common way to start your life, but for Peter, it was the norm. All the other children here were abandoned or lost their parents in some way, it was the only case where he felt he fit in. Peter hid in the cleaning cupboard, doing his best to ignore the cobwebs. It was pitch black, but he could see perfectly. Sat on the floor, he stared intently at the swirling darkness forming in his hand. The shadows grew as his heart began to race, larger and larger, almost filling the small room completely. He couldn’t control it, he could feel them taking over his mind. Peter began to panic.

Today was the day, his sixteenth birthday, the day Peter leaves. Some people visited a few weeks ago, real high class types, looking to train up some kids in housekeeping skills. They agreed to take Peter as soon as he turned sixteen, though he didn’t know why. Peter always saw himself as too much of a liability to be wanted for anything. He sat down on the steps with his suitcase, wrapping his coat around himself. Watching the world go by around him, he considered if he’d miss this town, with it being all he’s ever known. Some children ran by, a man shouting after them. Peter decided he wasn’t going to miss this place. A car honked it’s horn as the children ran into the road. Watching the disgruntled expression on the driver’s face, Peter stood as the car pulled up. Two people got out, a man and a woman, both wearing overly zealous outfits.

“Hello, Peter, it’s good to see you again,” The woman said, shaking his hand without asking. He just smiled as the man shook his hand as well. Suitcase in hand, Peter got into the car. It was pretty cramped when they were all in. It was a long journey ahead and these people were already getting on his nerves. Being trained how to be told what to do, Peter thought, fun.

A real job, at last. Peter stood in a line with the other staff members as their new boss greeted them one by one. Thirty-ish, greying hair and beard, not bad looking, incredibly well dressed. It was almost Peter’s turn in the line. His jacket started to irritate his neck, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the thought.

“Hello,” Peter opened his eyes to see his boss looking at him.

“Is there a problem?” His boss asked.

Peter blushed

He smiled fondly at him and held out his hand, “My name is Victor Fleming, it’s nice to have you here…”

“Peter Robinson,” he blurted out, shaking his hand a little too quickly

“Well Peter, I hope we get to know each other better,”

Peter stared at him for a moment before realising they were still holding hands. Immediately, he took his and away and untensed, “Of course, Sir,”

“… And here I am, wearing fancy clothes while shooting with you,” it was a cold morning, fog obscuring the distance, the mist from Peter’s breath rose into the air as he reloaded his gun.

“Sounds like quite a life,” Victor said before firing two shots. Birds flew from the wood that surrounded the land, “What a strange recurring dream though. Controlling shadows… Magic. Do you believe in magic?”

Peter shrugged, “Have to believe in something,” he fired his gun several times, hitting the targets perfectly.

Victor watched in awe, “You’re a very good shot. Have you had training?”

“I had some friends that had a gun and I borrowed it. Well, I saw borrowed, I never actually gave it back,” He pulled his flat cap down low then reloaded and fired again, waiting for the ding of metal hitting metal to ring out before continuing, “I wanted to be a soldier when I was younger, so I practiced shooting. Never had the chance to sign up when I was a kid, though. But I heard there was some recruitment guys coming to town soon, so I’ll be putting my name down. If they need me, I’ll be ready” Peter adjusted his glasses

“You could be killed,”

Peter shrugged, “Adds to the excitement,” and made his way back towards the house.

“Had enough?” Victor called as he followed behind him,

“I’m cold,” Peter called back

He heard quick footsteps behind him and suddenly Victor had his arms wrapped around Peter. They laughed together, until they stood on eachother’s feet and fell over onto the damp grass.

Crackling flames from the fire lit the room in a faint orange glow. Peter and Victor snuggled up to eachother under the covers. A thought prodded at Peter’s mind. He needed to tell him, Peter, he couldn’t keep it to himself forever, Peter, he had to tell him,

“Peter!” Victor said louder this time, snapping Peter back into the real world. “Peter, are you okay?” he said in a softer voice.

After looking at him for a long time, Peter sat up with his head in his hands.

“You’re worrying me now, what’s going on?” Victor sat next to him, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Voice muffled by his hands, Peter’s voice shook as he spoke, “I’m leaving. I have to leave,” taking a deep breath, he ran his hands through his hair, before putting his glasses on and getting dressed, ignoring the confused look on Victor’s face.

“What… What?”

Refusing to look anywhere but the floor, he pulled his trousers on, “I’m leaving. In two days,”

“Two days!? Where are you going!?” the alertness grew in his tone

Peter buttoned his shirt and pulled his braces on, “The, um, the war…” He trailed off, turning his head to Victor, just in time to see the fear in his eyes,

“You said you weren’t going to sign up,”

“I know…”

“You promised you wouldn’t, you promised you would stay here with me, where you’re safe,” wrapping the bed sheet around himself, he stood in front of Peter.

Tears formed in his eyes, “I’m so sorry,” his voice was but a whisper, “I- I have to go get ready,” He turned to leave the room but Victor grabbed his arm and pulled him in close.

Hands on either side of his face, he kissed him softly, “I can’t loose you,” Another kiss, “You’re all I have, please don’t do this,”

They pressed heir foreheads together and they let themselves cry for a moment. Peter kissed him once more. There were many things he wanted to say, I love you, I’ll be back before you know it, but he decided it was better left unsaid.


	2. The Battle

For what was possibly the last time in a lot of these men’s lives, it was quiet. The moon wasn’t in the sky tonight. Corporal Peter Robinson patrolled down the trench as the Sergeant gave his speech. It was your standard motivational speech, full of clichés. These men were afraid, Peter could see that, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. He stood next to the Sergeant as he finished talking,

“Corporal Robinson will lead you into this battle. He was once in the same position as you are now. I hope you strive to be the soldier he is. Do us proud,” he patted Peter on the back, then Peter stepped forward.

“Alright lads,” with his rifle, he made his way up the ladder to take a peek. The soldiers joined him. He looked back at the sergeant, who gave him a reassuring nod while gripping his gun tight. They had no way of winning this and they knew it, so, like the others, Peter suppressed his feelings and charged into battle.

Explosions erupted from all around as bodies fell to the floor. Peter hid in a ditch as he reloaded his gun, another body being blown over him. Looking over, through the smoke and barbed wire, he saw some of his men entering the enemy trench. Any hope he had drained away when a grenade went off shortly after. To his left, he heard someone screaming. He waited for a clearing then, keeping low, ran towards the sound, ducking under incoming fire. He skidded to a stop in the mud, next to the man who was screaming. One of his soldiers, shrapnel in his face, leg blown off, and bullet wounds in his torso. Peter tried to calm him down, applying pressure to his injuries. The screaming died away as blood splattered from his lips. The man gripped Peter’s jacket in desperation. Taking his pistol from his belt, he held it to his head,

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whimpered, then shot him.

It had only been ten minutes, but it was quiet again. All of his soldiers, the Sergeant, were dead, only Peter remained.

A few remaining Germans emerged from their defences, checking all the bodies, while Peter sat behind a mound of dirt. He considered his options. They’d find him soon enough and they’d kill him, or he could take few out, but there are too many of them, and they would kill him. These weren’t good options. Behind him, he heard a couple of them giving orders to eachother. Eyes closed, he thought about his life, about Victor. The man he loved, back home waiting for him to return safely, like he promised. He was only twenty-four, he had so much he wanted to do, but he swallowed his thoughts and accepted his fate. Peter stood, climbing on top of the mound. Two men stood in front of him but they didn’t react. Peter whistled, and they looked straight at him, but they didn’t do anything. He whistled again. It was like they couldn’t see him… Could they see him? With his pistol, he shot one of them. They started shouting and looking around for the culprit but he was standing right there and they couldn’t see him. Peter smiled.

This was new. Peter thought he’d worked out his powers by now, but this was very new. He shot two soldiers standing in front of him, the others hearing it and running over to help. With his shadows, Peter stabbed one, frozen as the life drained from his body, then shot the others. Someone was firing at him in the distance, and he was hit in the shoulder. He screamed out in pain, falling to the ground. Blood dripped through his fingers. Collapsed in the mud, he cried out and he pushed the bullet out with his shadows. Something started growing inside of him, jabbing at his mind, numbing the pain. It was taking him over as the soldiers closed in. The bullet dropped into the dirt but Peter no longer felt the pain. Laying in the mud, soul taken over by darkness, his eyes had gone black. This was almost new.

A smile grew across his face as he stood, brushing himself off. He wanted to laugh, but no sound came out. That was probably a good thing, since the soldiers decided to get back to their trench. Peter followed them, trying not to step in any puddles. He stood back while they climbed down their ladders, then jumped in behind them, startling them with the thud from the landing. A few lamps were down here, but he smashed them with his shadows until it was pitch black. The soldiers spread out as they searched frantically for Peter. He had to group them together, there couldn’t be more than 5 or 6 left. To his side was a metal bar, which Peter tapped the barrel of his gun against, drawing them in. When the right moment came, Peter created a cloud of black smoke around him, letting in grows larger, until it surrounded all of them. They started shouting to eachother, but stayed bunched together, the smoke entering their lungs, before clenching his fists, making the smoke go jagged, impaling the men from inside and out. The only sound was of people choking on blood.

The shadows dissipated, his eyes and soul cleared, and suddenly, Peter was alone.


	3. Farewell

Finally, it was time to go home. The car journey was quiet, Peter watched the countryside go by. In his hands, he held a small blue box, inside was a medal. He’d won it for bravery after the battle, but he didn’t like to think about that. Peter only imagined how proud Victor will be.

The car rolled into the driveway. At the front of the house stood three of the other staff. They didn’t look particularly happy. The driver opened the door for him and he got out, being greeted by a hug from an older maid, Sylvia,

“It’s good to have you back, Peter,” She said, squeezing him tight.

“It’s good to be back,” Peter pulled away, going to grab his suitcase.

“I’ll get that,” A butler said, grabbing the case. His name was Carter, he showed Peter the ropes when he started working here.

Everyone seemed on edge, it was unsettling.

“Where’s Vic- Mr. Fleming?” Peter asked.

“So you didn’t get our letter…” Sylvia spoke quietly, her voice cracking.

“What letter..? What happened? Where’s Victor!?” Peter demanded

She started crying, so the younger maid, Eleanor, took over, “Peter, Mr. Fleming died.”

His heart sank. Victor was the only thing keeping him going during the war, and now, he was gone. Peter’s legs went weak and he stumbled, Carter steadying him.

“He can’t-,” Peter stuttered, “He can’t be dead, he promised… He promised he’d wait for me!” Crying, he collapsed onto the ground.

“We did try to let you know,” Eleanor knelt down, comforting him, “We had no way of knowing if you received the letter or not. When we didn’t get a response from you, we started to assume the worst,”

Peter sobbed, “How did it happen?”

“He got sick, the doctors couldn’t do anything,”

“Did they try!?” He shouted

Eleanor cradled his face in her hands, “Come on, let’s go inside. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your old clothes on again,”

They helped him stand and led him inside. It felt wrong to be here without him.

The tea was hot on his lips. Eleanor held his shaking hands as he took a sip. He’d changed into one of the suits Victor bought him. Dark grey, three piece.

“You always were his favourite,” Carter said, “You became just as important as him,”

“At least Peter always treated us like people,” Eleanor retorted

Peter looked at him, “What are you talking about?”

She hesitated,

“Tell me,”

Eleanor looked over to Carter and sighed, “Victor has always wanted someone to spoil. The only people he had for that were his staff, so he used to buy us things. Then you showed up, and he took a shine to you. We figured he was just being nice like he was with us, but he didn’t stop with you. Every other day, he had something for you. We got ignored and he only cared about you,”

“You’re lying,” Peter defended

“That’s not all,” Carter said,

Peter looked at him

“Should we show him?” Carter asked the others,

“Now? Don’t you think he’s dealt with enough for the moment?” Sylvia said

“Yes, now. He deserves to know what his precious Victor was really like,”

“I don’t like being talked about as if I’m not here,” Peter muttered through gritted teeth

Sylvia sighed and left the room, returning with an envelope. She handed it to Peter. He opened it, a look of shock taking over his face as he read,

“Is this…?”

“His will. He’s left everything to you,”

He needed some time alone. The entire estate had been left to him. The house, horses, car, money. Even the staff worked for him now. Nothing had been left to them though, not one penny. No wonder they were acting weird with him. He sat on the bed. Peter’s mind flooded with memories. Their last moments happy together were in this room. He took his medal box from his pocket. Anger built up as he started at it. He shouldn’t have left. He should have been killed. Everything would’ve been fine if he’d just been killed. Now he knows Victor was desperate for love and would’ve fallen for anyone if they were good looking enough. Peter wasn’t special, he was lucky. In rage, he threw his medal across the room, hitting a vase and smashing it. The pieces fell onto the carpet, he stared at them for a moment before screaming, tears in his eyes.

Hours past. It was only five in the afternoon, but it was already dark. Peter hadn’t moved from the bed, he layed there, hugging himself. This wasn’t his home, and it never will be, no matter what a piece of paper says. He’ll take the money and go, start a new life. He could start practising his magic properly, learn to control it better. He’d be unstoppable. But what about the others?

A couple of weeks had gone by while Peter made preparations. All of the staff gathered in the foyer of the house, at his request. He stood at the door with his suitcases by his feet.

“Are you going somewhere, sir?” one of them asked,

Peter didn’t answer. He flicked through a stack envelopes in this hands, counting them, then counting the members of staff in front of him. Once he was satisfied, he cleared his throat,

“I’ve sold the house,” he said with a grin.

They looked at him in horror.

Peter’s grin faded, so he explained, “I’m not sticking around, but you don’t have to either. I’ve sold everything but the car, and I’m giving you all an equal sum to start a new life with. The new owners will be here tomorrow, so just make sure you’re gone by then. Alright, I think that’s everything. I have your checks here, so just come forward when I call your name,”

“What? Tomorrow?” They all started exclaiming their disgust,

They went on until Peter ordered them to shut up, “I don’t have time for this. If any of you argue again, you’re not getting any money, do you understand? Now come get your checks so I can leave,”

One by one, they came forward collecting their envelopes.

“Sir, this is a lot of money,” One of the men spoke up

“Yes, and you all have the same. Now go! Live your lives! Forget about me!” Peter cheered as he took his suitcases and carried them to the car, giving them one last wave before he drove off. The staff stood in confusion.


	4. The Next Chapter

Sofas overturned, wallpaper cut to pieces, chairs broken, the apartment was trashed. It was only a small place, but it was enough while he worked out his plan. Hands on hips, Peter stood in the middle of it all, observing the situation. He’d been practising his magic when suddenly everything got a little out of control. After righting the chairs, he sat down at the desk in his room and jotted down some points in his notebook. Peter had scraps on paper scattered around, along with various books on magic from the library, though they weren’t particularly helpful.

There was a knock at the door,

“Open up, this is the police,” A man called from the other side

Peter’s heart twisted. If they saw the state of the place, they were going to start asking questions. He opened the door only a fraction, hiding the room behind him. Two men stood before him, a large man and a smaller one. Both had stupid moustaches.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Mr. Robinson?” The smaller asked

“That’s me,” Peter replied cautiously, “Is there a problem?”

“The landlord downstairs reported a disturbance. Said it sounded like someone was breaking in,”

“And he didn’t check to see if I was okay?”

The larger man took out his notebook and read from it, “ “They sounded like they were strong, I didn’t like the idea of having to fight”, ”

“Oh, fair enough. No robbers here though so I guess I’ll be saying good day,” Peter tried to close the door on them but the large man put his foot in the doorway.

“We’d like to take a look around,”

“I wouldn’t like that at all,”

“Sir,” he said sternly,

Reluctantly, Peter opened the door fully, allowing them in.

In an attempt to come up with some miraculous excuse, Peter closed the door as slowly as he could, refusing to look at the policemen’s reactions. Maybe he could say he had an spot of rage, maybe it was like this when he moved in.

“If this wasn’t thieves,” The smaller man spoke with a concerned tone, “Then what happened?”

Peter looked at them as if he barely heard them, “Hm?”

The man gestured to the room.

It was as if all the troubles Peter had ever had lifted off his shoulders, “A cat,”

“A… Cat?”

“Yes. Came in through the window,”

“Why didn’t you tell us this at the door?”

“It was a very harrowing time, I wanted to block it from my memory,”

The only thing they believed was that Peter was insane. “You look around here,” The large man said to the smaller, “I’ll check the bedroom,”

Peter didn’t like that. All his research was in that room, they were going to think he was mad.

This wasn’t good. He needed to get out but where was he supposed to go without his stuff? Eyes on the officer, Peter stood in the doorway. The officer smiled at him,

“Everything okay?”

“Just dandy,” He said with no emotion,

Picking up one of the books and flicking through the pages, “Quite a collection you have here. A personal interest of yours, is it? Magic and the supernatural?”

“Could say that,”

A disgruntled look appeared on the man’s face. He tossed the book onto the bed, stepping closer to Peter, “You’re hiding something,”

Peter shrugged, “Aren’t we all?”

The other man stood behind him, blocking the exit, “Nothing out here,” he quickly examined the bedroom, drawing attention to the open wardrobe, “Who’s uniform is that?” He was referring to the army uniform.

Peter turned to look at him, “I beat a soldier to death and stole it off his corpse. It’s mine, you moron,”

“I’m not a moron…” He murmured, heartbroken

“You’re a corporal? You seem a bit young,” the other continued

“I’m older than I look,”

“Corporal Peter Robinson… I knew the name rang a bell. You were in the news, the only person to survive in a battlefield,”

“That’s me,”

He whispered to him, “How did you do it?” Peter didn’t like the grin on his face, “Was it magic?”

“I’d like you to leave now,”

He took out some handcuffs, “Peter Robinson, you are under arrest,”

Panic was setting in, “On what charges?”

The smaller man answered, “Let’s just say this isn’t the first complaint we’ve had about you,” they moved to put the cuffs on.

Shadows closed in around Peter’s feet and suddenly he disappeared as if into the floor, reappearing again by the front door. Fear filling their bodies, the policemen pulled out their guns and pointed them at Peter, just as he vanished again under the door. Down the stairs, into the street, startling passers-by. He looked to his car. That wasn’t an option, he didn’t have time to start it. A gun would’ve made this situation easier, but that was back in the apartment. Peter turned around to see the men emerging from the doorway. There was only one thing he could do, and a lot of people would get hurt. He let the shadows inside him take over, living darkness forming around him as his eyes turned black. Civilians screamed and ran. The smaller man was about to shoot as Peter pushed his hand out towards him, pinning his limp body to the wall with dark spikes. The bigger man stumbled back as he screamed, before shouting orders to the other policemen that were arriving. He was surrounded, but this is a familiar situation. They soon fell to the ground after black smoke impaled them. A gun went off. Peter looked down to see the blood pouring from his leg. He wanted to cry out, but there was no sound. Trying to stop the bleeding with his shadows, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. There was a loud clang against his head and Peter was out cold before he hit the ground.

The handcuffs were cold against his wrists, they made an annoying sound against the table. He could quite easily break out, but that would only make the situation worse. Peter didn’t want to be on the run from people that didn’t understand him. Though they were probably going to hang him for being an abomination. Two men in nice suits entered the room. Peter didn’t recognise them, they didn’t look like they came from around here. They sat at the table,

“You can get out of those handcuffs now,” one of the men, a middle aged man with a wonderful beard said. He had a nice smile.

“How do you expect me to do that?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes

“It’s okay,” said the other, he had black curly hair, “We know you’re magic,”

After a moment, Peter used his shadows to unlock the cuffs.

“My name is Hazard Grieves,” the man with the curly hair said, “This is my colleague Fitzwilliam Wrangle ,”

“Hello,” Fitzwilliam said, with another lovely smile,

“That’s a stupid name,” Peter added, and his smile faded, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“We’re magic, Peter, like you,” Hazard clicked his fingers, summoning a flame in his hands, Peter grinned, “Fitzwilliam here is a sensitive. That means he can control people’s thoughts and completely remove memories,”

Peter looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re free to go. We’ll go around all the mortals that saw you and make sure you never cross their minds again,”

Joy. At last, Peter was full of joy. It died away quickly, “But I killed people,”

“You were defending yourself. It was only a few mortals. Just don’t do it again,”

Peter nodded, “So is there anything I need to know?”

Fitzwilliam took out a notepad and wrote down an address and some other notes, “Go here. This is the London Sanctuary, they’re like the magic equivalent of a government. There are people there who will tell you everything you need to know,” He tore off the page and handed it to Peter and they stood,

“Oh, one more thing,” Hazard said, “You need to change your name,”

Peter furrowed his brow, “Why?”

“It’s just a thing. You can be controlled with your given name, so you need to take a new one,”

He nodded again, “Okay,”

It took a while, but Peter finally found a nice town house in London, with a gleaming white exterior. The Sanctuary told him about these towns that were populated entirely by magic folk. Peter set up home in the most expensive one, just to show off. They also gave him an increibly long lecture on why it’s bad to kill people. Peter didn’t pay much attention, he didn’t consider himself a follower of rules. He stood outside with a cup of tea as the moving men took his belongings into the house. A young woman came up to greet him. She had red hair and was rather pretty,

“Hello,” Peter enjoyed how cheery she was, “Welcome to the neighbourhood, I’m Calibre Clash,”

“That’s a beautiful name, matches your face,” She rolled her eyes at him with a smile, Peter smiled back. No, not Peter, “It’s nice to meet you Calibre, I’m Franklin Hollow,”


	5. Happy New Year

New Year’s wasn’t an enjoyable time for Franklin. Seeing everyone spending time with their families, something that Franklin never experienced, it made him feel incredibly lonely. Several years had past since he last felt that way, though. He got used to being alone.

One hour to midnight. Franklin sat in his office, making plans, doing research, occasionally becoming distracted by the photo of Calibre that sat on his desk. She was away with her family. Franklin missed her.

Drunkards sang out on the streets, not one of them could carry a tune. Disgruntled, Franklin went downstairs into the living room. He flicked through his box of records, choosing something to drown out the noise from outside. Some calming classical, he decided. Fire crackling, Franklin sat in his armchair, relaxing with his eyes closed.

He was startled by a knock at the door. If this is some drunk twat, he thought, making his way to the front door, I’m going to kill them. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t some drunk,

“Hi, Franklin,” Calibre said, with a warm smile.

Almost speechless, Franklin stumbled over his words,

“What- What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the new year with your family?”

Calibre wrapped her coat around herself, “Took me about ten minutes around them to realise I would much rather be with you,”

Still speechless. Was he actually… Wanted? Cared about? Loved? He stood to the side,

“Come on, it’s freezing out there,”

Calibre shuffled past him. He closed the door without taking his eyes off of her.

Ten minutes to midnight. Calibre stood by the fire, warming herself. Franklin walked over to her, rubbing her hands.

“God, you’re frozen,”

“It was a long walk,” She smiled at him, Franklin only now noticing how red her cheeks were.

They looked at eachother in a moment of content silence. Franklin broke it,

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I really shouldn’t,” Calibre took of her coat and draped it over the armchair, along with her hat and scarf. Franklin admired her as she fixed her hair. She caught him looking, he just smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets,

“So why are you here?”

“I already told you,”

“I know you did, but why?”

“Because you’re wonderful, Franklin,”

“Well I knew that…” He smirked, she rolled her eyes it that adorable way.

Franklin checked his pocket watch. One minute to midnight.

“Calibre, in around sixty seconds, I’m going to do something that I hope you will be okay with,”

She stood closer to him, “What do you plan on doing?”

“Oh, you’re a clever woman, I’m sure you can work it out,” He laughed nervously

Calibre placed her hand on his cheek, Franklin tucking her hair behind her ear. Somewhere in the distance, a clock was striking twelve. They gave eachother a look and kissed


	6. A Joker and a Thief

Money was tight. It’s easy to forget even when you have all the money in the world, it will run out eventually. A friend of Franklin’s, River Bard, told him of a job offer from some of his colleagues. Nothing too major, but enough to help. Franklin swept his hair back, then adjusted the buttons on his waistcoat as Calibre entered the room,

“River’s here,”

Franklin gave her a nod of acknowledgement,

Calibre hesitated, “Are you sure this is a good idea? You don’t know who these people are,”

“We need the money, Calibre. Besides, I trust River, he wouldn’t get me into anything that isn’t safe,” He kissed her forehead and went downstairs, Calibre following him,

“You haven’t known him that long, you don’t know what kind of circles he’s in,”

Franklin opened the front door, River Bard was standing by his car. They greeted eachother with a nod and Franklin took his coat from the stand and put it on. He turned to Calibre, who stood with her arms folded, a worried look on her face,

“Just be careful. And don’t drink too much, you know what you’re like when you’re drunk,”

Franklin smiled at her, then kissed her softly, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Calibre waited for him to drive off before closing the door.

River took them into the city. Franklin didn’t spend much time in the mortal parts of town, so he didn’t recognise the streets.

“So what kind of business do your friends have?” Franklin asked, “You said something about rare antiques, but what does that mean, exactly?”

“I think it would be best if they explained that themselves. I don’t get involved as much as you think, I might say something I’m not supposed to,”

“But what could you say…” Franklin let the sentence drift off, decided it was best to not push it. It was late afternoon when they reached their destination. They parked the car and walked up to a pub. Franklin read the name,

“That’s a stupid name for a pub,” He announced

River glared at him, “Probably don’t bring that up when you meet these people,”

“Why not? Everyone deserves to know how stupid that name is. It’s magnificently stupid. Positively ridiculous, ”

“Yes, I’m sure telling that to the owners would be a marvellous idea,”

“Exactly. Maybe they’ll change the name,”

River refused to acknowledge what he said and walked it, Franklin following behind with a cocky grin.

Cigarette smoke filled the room like fog. People laughed and glasses clinked. Franklin looked around, examining everyone, attempting to work out if any of them were sorcerers or not. They looked too stuck up for this part of town. Definitely sorcerers. River spoke with the bartender before leading Franklin to one of the closed off booths at the back.

Two men in fancy suits sat either side of another man in an even fancier suit, with dark hair and dark eyes. Absolutely sorcerers,

“You took your time,” One of the less fancy men, with light brown hair and spectacles, said to River,

“Now, now,” The fancier man interrupted, “Let’s not make a scene in front of our guest,” he turned his eyes to Franklin, as if he were trying to peer into his soul, “You must be Franklin,”

Franklin gave him a nod.

River began to speak but they all ignored him.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard about us and our little enterprise, but we’ve heard a great deal about you. I’m Hunter Strife. These are my associates, Dale Venture, and Buster Fink,” They mumbled a greeting, “Please, sit,” Franklin and River sat.

“So,” Hunter started, “River here told us about you and your interesting antics. Surviving a war, murdering armed police while taking the form of some sort of shadow demon. He even told us you broke into his house while he was still in it and he had no idea,”

Franklin looked over to River, giving him a quizzical look, then moving his attention back to Strife.

“You may be thinking ‘Hm, those are a strange set of events to be bringing up’, And you’d be right, but they are all very useful for us,”

Dale Venture, the other man, with sandy hair and an aged face, continued. He brought out a folder containing various maps and information that he spread across the table. He slid a drawing of an amulet of some kind towards Franklin, “Do you know what this is?”

Franklin did know, “That’s Kinon’s amulet. They were a necromancer way back in the day, that’s what they stored their magic in. Some people say they were like Lord Vile before Lord Vile was about. I always thought that was a rather weak comparison, seeing as how I’ve done worse things than Kinon,” 

“That’s mighty impressive, though I feel that says more about you than it does Kinon,”

Franklin shrugged, “What does this have to do with the job offer?”

Strife leant forward, lowering his voice, “We want you to steal it,”

Franklin looked at him,

“Now, we don’t expect you to accept-”

“Okay,” Franklin interrupted,

They blinked at him

“Okay…?” Buster Fink asked

“I’ll do it,” He took the sketch of the map from the table, “Is this where it is? I could go do it now,”

“Now?” River Bard said, concerned, “It’s daylight, Franklin,”

“You’re all acting like this is going to be some huge heist,” He turned the map towards them, “Unless I’m mistaken, this is a mortal part of the city. I’ll be two seconds and no one will know. I’ve done shit like this before,”

“You’re insane,” Dale insisted, but Strife shut down his opinion,

“Don’t be so negative, it’s always nice to see them enthusiastic. Welcome to the team, Mr. Hollow,” He held out his hand for Franklin to shake it. Franklin interlocked his fingers and rested his arms on the table,

“I want payment now,”

Strife didn’t like that, his confident smile turned into a grimace, “You’ll be paid when the job is done,”

“No I won’t. Half now, half when it’s done,”

River tried to whisper to him, “Frankie, I really don’t think you should push him like that,”

Franklin ignored him, waiting for an answer. He sat back, folding his arms, feeling pleased with his control of the situation., “You need me. You can’t do this without me because you’re all too afraid. Pay me now,” The three men discussed it amongst themselves.

“A quarter now, the rest after,” Strife said finally,

Franklin thought it over, “Deal,” and they shook hands.

Night had fallen. They stood waiting for the building to close. It was an antique shop, only guarded by the owner who lived on the upper floor. Franklin leant against a wall, watching his breath rise into the cold air while the others discussed the plan. Minutes ticked by until it was time. They watched the light go out in the top window and they all turned to Franklin.

“Ready?” River asked, placing his hand on his shoulder as if to reassure him. Franklin just nodded.

“We’re counting on you, Hollow,” Dale spoke close to him, “Don’t mess it up,”

Franklin looked at him for a long moment before checking his surroundings, and disappearing into the darkness. Now all they could do was wait.

Franklin emerged on the other side of the door, being extra careful where he stepped. His night vision kicked in and he scouted the room. Floorboards creaked under is feet as he moved deeper into the shop. Trinkets and knick-knacks stacked up against the walls. Glass cabinets stood in the middle. Just when he thought he had run out of shelves to check, he saw it, the amulet. He went to grab it when suddenly he heard someone coming down the stairs.

“Is someone there?” A short old man, with little hair, and glasses stood staring straight at Franklin, unable to see him in the darkness. Franklin kept his eyes on him as he slowly reached for the amulet. The old man was lighting his lamp, but just before the room was illuminated, Franklin vanished, swimming through the shadows, back to the others. He stumbled as he re-emerged in an alleyway, crashing into some bins. Fuck sake, he muttered as he steadied himself. The others were suddenly gathered around him,

“Franklin!” River rushed to help him, “Are you okay?”

Strife barged past him, “Did you get the amulet?” He demanded

Franklin reached into his coat pocket and held the amulet by the chain, they all looked in awe.

The apartment was small and stuffy, with ugly green wallpaper. Franklin grimaced at the horrid smell that appeared to be coming from the carpet. Strife stood opposite an oldish woman sat at a desk, examining the amulet. Franklin stood by the desk, Dale and Buster were by the door. River wasn’t present by Strife’s request. He wasn’t particularity happy about Franklin being there either, but Frankie gets what Frankie wants.

“This is indeed Kinon’s amulet. These are the sigils carved by Kinon themself,” The woman said, taking off her glasses, “I will gladly take it off your hands,”

“For the price we agreed on?” Strife asked.

“Of course,” She went into the other room for a moment, returning with two suitcases. She put them on the desk, “Is this to your satisfaction?”

Strife opened them up, checking the money. He counted a few notes out of one and placed them in the other before closing them, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” and he left the room with suitcases in hand. Franklin gave the woman a nod with a small smile, then followed them out.

They parked up outside the pub. Strife handed Franklin the case with the least amount of money, “This was fun, Mr. Hollow, I hope we can work together again in the future,” his smile was insincere,

Franklin smiled back with a little more effort, “Why would I want to do that?”

His smile faded, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, I don’t need you any more. You’ve allowed me to discover something I am actually good at, and now, I know exactly where to find someone who will pay me great deals of money to do it. So, I can only thank you dearly, Hunter, may we part as friends,” just as he was about to walk away, Franklin saw his fists clench and begin to glow.

“How dare you… How dare you make a fool of me!” Before he could let out his rage, Franklin grabbed his ankle with a shadow and tripped him up, his head hitting the pavement, “Remember where we are, Hunter. You can’t do things like that around here,”

Strife moaned as he sat up, Dale kneeling down to his aid.

Buster came up to Franklin, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” He was about to throw a punch. Franklin had just enough time to roll his eyes before clocking him on the jaw, knocking him out,

“Oops,”

Dale looked up at him, “You’re a monster,”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Franklin turned and cheerfully walked away.

“You’ll pay for this!” Strife yelled,

He span around, giving him a wave, and kept walking.

“It’s beautiful, Frankie, I love it,” Calibre admired the necklace around her neck, a deep red stone hung from it, “But how did you afford it? River said the job was only going to be something mundane, you wouldn’t earn that much,”

Franklin walked over to her, kissing her cheek, “You don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore,” He gave her a warm smile, but Calibre wasn’t happy,

“What did you do?”

Franklin was taken aback, “I… I didn’t do anything,”

“Don’t lie to me. Where did you get the money?”

He couldn’t get away with lying to her, so he took a deep breath, and put on a brave face, “River’s friends, they’re… I stole something for them. It was easy and I didn’t get hurt. But I’m not working for them anymore. It’s just going to be you and me from now on,”

“So what are you doing now?”

“Well…”

Her face slackened, “No, Franklin no…”

His voice was soft, “I’ve never been caught. I’ve only had to hurt a few people,”

Calibre laughed, “You say that like it’s a good thing,” She closed her eyes, sadly shaking her head, “I don’t want to be a part of this. You’re a criminal. I don’t want your dirty money. I think you should leave,”

“But Calibre…”

“If that’s the life you want, then go have it. I don’t want to be a part of it,” She took the necklace off, letting it drop to the floor, “When I get back, I want you to be gone,” She stormed out, the sound of the door slamming wrenched at his heart s he looked at the necklace gleaming in the light.

Franklin was long gone. He wanted to be a criminal, he wanted power, Calibre had accepted that. A large parcel was waiting for her on the doorstep. She looked at the handwriting curiously before taking it inside. It was quite heavy. Unwrapping the paper carefully, she uncovered a small case with an envelope on top. Calibre’s eyes widened as she ready the letter.

Have a good life.

Franklin.

 

Quickly, she opened the case. Bundles of money filled it to the brim, a necklace with a deep red stone sat on top.


	7. Calm during the Storm

After months of running, they had finally found a place to set up shop. A small sorcerer town, just outside London. River handled the clients, and Franklin did the jobs. It was easy and very good money. Franklin sat in his office reading a book when there was a knock at the door. River entered.  
“There’s a phone call for you, Frankie,” He said,  
Franklin looked at him over his glasses, “You handle the calls,”  
“I know, but this man sounds very important, and he insists on speaking with you,”  
Reluctantly, he went to the phone,  
“Hello?”  
“Mr. Hollow?”, A deep voice said on the other end of the line,  
Franklin narrowed his eyes, “Who is this?”  
“You don’t need to know my name, not yet, at least. I would like to discuss some business with you, Mr. Hollow. Business that I feel would be better off discussed in person,”  
Franklin spoke before the man could continue, “No one knows I’m the one doing the work here. How do you know who I am?”  
The man chuckled, “Do you take me for a fool? I’ve done my research, Mr. Hollow. I’ve heard stories about you. I hear you’re mildly famous,”  
A few seconds passed before Franklin replied, “When would you like to meet?”

It was a quiet evening. The only people in the gardens were a couple of dog walkers and elderly couples. Franklin leaned against a tree as he checked his pocket watch. His client was late. River wasn’t even here to help kill time, this guy had insisted the least amount of people necessary knew what was going on. Franklin smiled at a baby being pushed by in a pram before being startled by the man that was suddenly beside him.   
“Hello, Franklin,” The man was bald and pale with shockingly blue eyes. He felt calm in his presence.  
“Hello, Mr…?”  
“Bliss,”   
Franklin almost smiled to himself. Fitting, he thought, “Hello, Mr. Bliss. So what do you want me to steal? Priceless jewel? Ancient artifact no one is sure actually exists?”  
Bliss smiled, “You’re eager, I see,”  
Franklin shrugged,  
“I thought we could get to know eachother a bit. I like to know who I ‘m working with,”  
“Well, what would you like to know?”  
“I hear you have an interest in antiques,”  
He nodded, “I need to know what’s worth the most. Authors, artists, whatever, I know my stuff,”  
“My sister would love you, Mr. Hollow,”  
Franklin suddenly perked up, “That so?”  
“She owns a library in Ireland. She’s quite the collector, you’d be of great use to her, I believe. She’d have you wrapped around her little finger though,”  
“What makes you say that?” he grinned  
“Just hope you never have to find out the answer to that,”  
He gave a little laugh, “If you say so. Back to business though, what do you need me to do?”  
“I need you to retrieve a person,”  
Franklin took a moment, “You want me to kidnap someone?”  
“I’m not asking you to knock them out and put a sack over their head. I’ve heard you have a knack of gaining people’s trust,”  
“You need better sources,”  
Bliss’ stare gave Franklin a sinking feeling. “So,” He said, snapping out of it, “You want me to ask this person nicely to come with me and if they don’t cooperate, I’ll clobber them?”  
Bliss sighed, “Yes, essentially,”  
“Sounds easy enough,”  
“You don’t even who this person is yet,”  
Franklin shrugged, “Go on,”  
“They’re a Sanctuary Administrator,”   
Oh.   
Fuck.

Canada was cold. Why did it have to be a Canadian Administrator? Why not Cuba? Did they have a Sanctuary in Cuba? Franklin decided he was going to look that up later. The Sanctuary exterior was a small building, the sign outside said it was a train museum. A small part of him hoped it was still in operation. He stood my a small lake while he waited. Bliss finally arrived to give him his final instructions,  
“This is the person you’re looking for,” He handed a photo of an awkward looking person holding an incredibly cute dog. Franklin wished he had to find the dog instead.  
“So this guy holds some sacred information that you are in dire need of?”  
“Did you parents ever tell you not to judge people by their looks?”  
“I think they were too busy abandoning me to have that conversation,” Franklin put the photo in his jacket pocket. “So, find the Administrator, don’t kill the Administrator, bring the Administrator back to you, profit,”  
“Are you always this perky?”  
“Only when I’m afraid. Alright, see you later,” Bliss watched him wander off into the shadows.

A secret entrance would’ve been ideal. Attempting to find a secret entrance would’ve been smart. Franklin slid under the door of the museum and immediately grinned at the model railway that sat in the middle of the room. He looked around for a switch. There wasn’t any on the table, but he flicked the switches on the wall and the room was illuminated, followed by the faint buzz of the model trains. Franklin leant on the table, watching the trains race around it. Satisfied, he turned, now looking at the gun aimed between his eyes.

“How did you get in here?” Said the woman holding the gun. She wore a bowler hat and had a French accent. A man stood behind her holding a rifle.  
“I’m looking for the Sanctuary,” Franklin said, raising his hands,  
“That’s not what I asked,” The woman pulled the hammer back,  
“This building is highly guarded,” the man looked young, with slicked back hair, “We have eyes on these doors at all times, how did you get in? Teleportation?”  
Franklin decided to lower his arms, “I turned into a shadow and slid under the door,”  
The man and the woman gave eachother a look, before turning their attention back to Franklin, “What?” The man said,  
“I’m Umbrakinetic,”  
“That’s not a thing,”   
Franklin was confused, then the woman spoke up, “Hang on, what’s your name?”  
“Franklin Hollow,”   
She sighed and lowered her gun, “You’re the shadow demon guy from England,”  
Suddenly a rifle was being aimed instead, “I’ve heard about you,” his eyes wide, the rifle shook in the man’s hands,  
“I get that a lot,” Franklin was getting tired of this, “Look, I just want to get into the Sanctuary and speak with the Administrator, is that okay?”  
“Fine,” The woman started walking towards the back room, the man followed,  
“Are you insane? He’s a monster!”  
“It’s nice to be loved,” Franklin mumbled quietly,  
“If he decides to cause trouble,” She continued, “You can kill him, deal?”  
“Deal,” he answered, then she turned her attention to Franklin,  
“Deal?”  
He gave her a thumbs up. 

Stone pillars stood in the middle of the Sanctuary, matching with the floor. The walls were a dark, gleaming grey. Franklin walked down several flights of stairs with the woman. The man decided to return to his guard post.  
“I’m Opus, by the way,” The woman said as the walked to the Administrator’s desk, “Sorry about Clarence, he’s new, he gets a bit paranoid sometimes,”  
“I’m more surprised when people aren’t quaking with fear these days,”  
They reached the desk, but the Administrator was nowhere to be seen,  
“Where’s Gaunt?,” Opus asked a passer by,  
“I think he’s in the Grand Mage’s office,”  
Oh joy, Franklin thought.  
Opus turned back to Franklin, “I have other things to do so I can’t escort you. You can wait here-”  
Franklin interrupted her, “No it’s okay, I can go find him,” he started walking, “This way, right?”  
“I really don’t think you should be on your own,” she called after him  
“I’ll be good, I promise,” he called back   
“Mr. Hollow!” by the time she started chasing him, Franklin had already disappeared into a shadow and disappeared down the corridors.

A Cleaver stood by the door to the office. Franklin walked back down the corridor, finding a quiet corner to wait by while he attempted to conjure up a plan. A few minutes went by before the Administrator finally walked passed him. Franklin cleared his throat, causing the awkward man to turn towards him,   
“Can I help you?”   
Franklin stood, “You’re the Administrator, right? Gaunt?”  
“I am… Who are you?”  
“Franklin. Franklin Hollow. I am here on behalf of One Mr. Bliss,”  
Gaunt looked at him for a moment before dropping the papers in his hands and taking off running. With a disappointed sigh, Franklin tripped him up, then walked over to him,  
“This would be so much easier if you didn’t do that,”  
The man squirmed on the floor, “Help! Someone help!” He cried  
“Or that… If I were you, I’d shut up,” shadows began to curl around his fist,  
Gaunt shuffled backwards, drops of sweat forming on his forehead, “You can’t kill me. Bliss wants me alive, you can’t kill me,”  
“No, but I can hurt you a great amount. Now come with me,” Franklin held out his hand. The Administrator wearily took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, “See, that wasn’t so hard,” Before he could give him one of his trademark smiles, Gaunt fired a beam of energy, striking Franklin in the shoulder, making him cry out in pain and stumble back, “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Franklin said through gritted teeth as he started to pace after him. Gaunt threw more beams and Franklin threw shadows back. Suddenly, the Administrator pulled out a revolver and fired two bullets, hitting Franklin in the torso. He fell to the ground.

People were coming. Sounds of footsteps thundered in his ears. He put his hand to his wounds and felt the warm blood seeping between his fingers. Using all the strength he had, Franklin sat up. Between two Cleavers stood the Administrator, who froze as he watched Franklin’s eyes turn black. 

There was a quiet hum in the lobby. Several people sat waiting, some exchanged words, others rustled paper by the front desk. All of that was soon drowned by the Administrator running in, screaming, followed by a Cleaver crashing into a pillar, leaving a splatter of blood. Everyone joined the Administrator in screaming when they saw Franklin emerge from the hallway, leaving red footprints, and blood on his face. Ignoring the shouting and sending the Cleavers that were charging him flying into the back wall, Franklin headed straight for Gaunt, who was cowering behind a potted plant. Tears were streaming down his face,  
“You can’t kill me!” He sobbed,”Remember, you can’t kill me!”  
Franklin didn’t care. Franklin grabbed his collar, pulling him to his feet and holding him against the wall,  
“You can’t kill me…” He spoke quieter, as if he was accepting his fate,  
Shadows built up around Franklin, swirling from his feet to his fists, becoming thicker the angrier he got, and he sent them into Gaunt’s throat. He choked on the blood and was left slumped on the floor. Sorcerers now surrounded him, all either aiming weapons or charging their magic. Franklin stood ready to throw everything he had at them, but as he gathered the shadows around his hands, his eyes cleared, and he lost control of his shadows,  
“Ah, shit,”

Luckily for Franklin, he was a good runner. Unluckily for Franklin, everyone else was just as good. He turned every corner he came across in an attempt to loose them, skidding along the floor every time. He may be about to die, but at least he was going to look good doing it. Gunshots rang through the halls as he turned another corner to be greeted by Clarence pointing his rifle at him. It took Franklin all of two seconds to decide his next move. Franklin tackled him to the ground, taking the rifle from his grip and blowing his brains out. Quickly, he rolled over, firing at the others following him. The Cleavers took a few bullets to go down. When he was satisfied no more were coming for now, Franklin ran through one of the doors into a small office and barricaded himself by pushing the desk up against the door. He took a moment to calm down and checked how many bullets he can left. Three. He searched the room for more ammo, but was left disappointed. He tried to harness his magic, but couldn’t get control of it. Franklin sat on the floor, his hand went to the bullet holes in his stomach. The shadows were protecting them before, but now they began to bleed again. He removed his jacket, and then his shirt, tying it around the wounds, then putting his jacket back on. Franklin closed his eyes and waited. Moments later, there was a banging at the door. Someone was trying to kick it open. Franklin stood, readying his rifle, preparing for whatever may be about to happen. The door flung open, there stood a Cleaver with other sorcerers with yet more guns. Just as they began firing, Franklin sunk into the floor. He didn’t tell himself to do that… Did his magic save him? Now wasn’t the time to think about it, Franklin got the hell out of there, emerging just outside the town where he planned to meet Bliss. It was morning now. He looked around for any witnesses, then, when he confirmed he was safe, Franklin laughed.

Bliss chose a mortal hotel as the meeting point. It was still an expensive one though. Franklin wasn’t surprised. He knocked on the door of the room, Bliss opened it. He stared at Franklin, as if he was waiting for an explanation. When he didn’t receive one, he spoke,  
“Where is he?”  
Franklin entered the room, Bliss closing the door behind him, “I would’ve gotten here sooner, but I had to head to the doctor, then buy a new shirt. Things got pretty hairy, you see,”  
Bliss was loosing his patience,”Where is he?”  
“Dead,” he said as if it was nothing, “Along with some Cleavers and a few of the Sanctuary lot,”   
If Bliss was angry, he did it well, “I told you I needed him alive,”  
“I know, and he reminded me constantly, but when he shot me, I decided to forget about that, so it’s his own fault really. I would tell you the whole story, but I don’t want to rob you of the opportunity of hearing about it in the news. I’m sure they’ll make it sound much more glamorous than I would,”   
“Get out,”   
“Rightyho. It was nice working with you, I hope we can do it again sometime,” Franklin went in for a handshake, but was rejected,  
“Get out!” Bliss roared,  
Franklin left with a smirk on his face.

It was nice to be home again. Franklin gave River a wave as he entered the office,  
“Are you… Going somewhere?” River asked, watching Franklin pack his things into suitcases,  
“I think it’s time we go our separate ways. We had a good run though, I have enjoyed our time together,”  
“Frankie, what’s going on?”  
Franklin sighed, “Things happened in Canada and now I’m a wanted criminal,”  
River’s face slacked, “What did you do?”  
“Killed people, important people. You know, the usual,” he handed River two of the cases and they carried them out to the car,  
“So you’re going on the run?”  
“Basically, yeah,”  
“Where are you going to go?”  
They piled the cases into the car, “I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t tell you even if I did know. Sanctuary detectives will probably come looking for me here, I suggest you tell them I left and then go start a new life. Start a family! You’d make a great husband,” Franklin patted him on the shoulder then got behind the wheel,  
“I’m going to miss you, Frankie,” his voice was sad,  
“Maybe one day, in the far future, our paths shall cross once again,”  
“I look forward to that day,”  
Franklin smiled, “As so I,” he started the car, looking forward to see Sanctuary agents walking up the street towards them, “See you, River,” he said quickly, and speeded away.


End file.
